


Butterfly Kisses

by schizoress



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: First Kiss, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Self-Doubt, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 22:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13040550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schizoress/pseuds/schizoress
Summary: Poe is determined to prove to Finn that he is wanted, loved even, and that he is special and perfect in so many, many ways. He decides to start here.





	Butterfly Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts, unfinished, for nearly a year. Un-beta'd, but written with love. Enjoy !

Finn has recently awoken from his coma, new spine shiny, metallic, and bordered with tight scar tissue. He is self conscious about how it looks, notices that even when clothed, the tip of the addition peaks out of the collar of his shirt. People stare, and though he never asks why, it’s unnerving, jarring, even. He is self conscious about the replacement, knows that there was no other way to give him a chance at walking again, fighting again, being of use. Normally he would never doubt himself so quickly–or, he’d like to think that were the case now that he’s with the resistance. Now that he is Finn, a man with a home, a purpose, and people who care about him. Now that he is his own person. But as he cools down from his latest physical therapy session, the exercises more intense now than ever, he feels open and raw. Empty, without all those things he knows deep down inside he can call his own. 

Somehow, he ends up at Poe’s door, fist curled and raised, hovering just in front of the cool metal barrier. He doesn’t knock though, nor does he press the comm on the wall just to his right. Poe isn’t here right now, Finn knows this. He’s out on the flight deck running checks on his fighter, and Finn wishes it was a week later and he’d been cleared to explore the more hectic areas of the base. But as it was, he could barely muster the strength to travel his daily path from his room to the mess to therapy and back again. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he’d wander pass Poe’s room at a time when the pilot was actually there, be invited in. 

“Finn?” The young hero jumps, his self loathing prematurely put to rest by the sudden appearance of Poe. The man is standing right behind him, brow smeared with sweat and oil as if he had just finished dragging his work-dirtied palm across it. He stands with his shoulders squared, the expression on his face somehow both unreadable and open as a book. Finn wonders briefly what might be on his mind before he remembers where they are.

“What are you doing here? Did you need something? Are you alright?” The questions blur together and Finn manages only to stare dumbly in response, taken aback by the concern in his voice. The sincerity that lies there is foreign, unfamiliar, but it is all Poe is and has ever been toward him. 

“I, uh,” the ex-trooper stutters, pulls his hands to his chest and worries his lip between his teeth for all but a moment, “Therapy. I was on my way back to my room.” It’s not a lie, but he can see that Poe is still confused, disbelieving if only because there is a much more direct route to his dorm than the one he has to take to pass by Poe’s room. 

“I thought you were out on the flight deck this afternoon?” He asks, hoping to deter the man from further questioning of himself, hands still clenched nervously against his own chest and eyes slightly downcast. He likes Poe, truly he does, but there is a feeling that flutters around his entire person when the man manages to catch him off guard like this. It is yet again foreign to him, something he is unsure he will ever be able to understand, or even describe to another person. It is warm and electric and dangerous, this sensation. He notices how it sparks, grows stronger as Poe closes the gap between them to rest a gentle hand upon his shoulder. The intake of breath that follows is shallow, unnecessary. He expects to feel the jolt of electricity come to life but instead all he feels is the warmth radiating from Poe’s person. 

“Yes, well.. I had left something in my room and came back to get it,” He speaks slowly, as if the answer takes him a moment to think about, and tilts his head slightly, concern filling the empty expression on his face. “You look pale, Finn,” Poe’s hand drifts upward to cup his chin and tilt it this way and that. He struggles against it for a moment, sighs when the pilot doesn’t relent and tries not to pout when the hand is finally removed from him. 

The spark isn’t gone; in fact it’s tenfold now and bouncing all across his skin. It’s terrible, terrible and he heaves a shaky sigh, wants the feeling to silence itself. If only for a moment because now Poe is leaning in bodily and Finn doesn’t know what to do. He ducks his head down low and takes a shaky step back.

“Finn?” The worry and concern that fills Poe’s voice is comforting, but that comfort is distant. Too distant and too gentle to drown out the buzzing electricity in his ears and he feels his legs wobble. Finn expects to feel the ground hit hard beneath his shins, a common occurrence on any trip back from his physical therapy sessions. All he gets is that warm spark, the electricity dulling infinitely to a warm buzz as Poe catches him, holds his crumpled form up against his chest and whispers careful reassurances into his ear.

Finn can’t hear him clearly, the electricity is still thrumming in his ears, muffling the world around him but he is aware that they are moving now. The door to Poe’s room slides open and then closes behind them. The pilot is still talking, Finn notices, and he wishes he could hear and respond. Hold a conversation as if everything was normal, as if he himself were normal. He knows better, though. Knows that he is not normal, that he never has been and now, awake and recovering from his spinal injury, he probably never will be.

They continue moving and, distantly, Finn wonders where he is being led. Soft sheets brush against the back of his legs and Poe is slowly pushing him down. He is conscious enough to know that this is not one of his strange midnight fantasies come to life, and willingly lies down on the mattress as he is sure he has been asked to do. Poe doesn’t follow him, and the warmth of his body is quickly forgotten, overrun by the dull hum in his ears. Finn’s fingers and toes are tingly for a moment, and the feeling slowly spreads across the whole of his body before it disappears altogether.

“..nn … _Finn_ ,” Poe’s voice is firm and gentle all at once and the resistance fighter chuckles brokenly, rolls onto his stomach and hides his face in the sheets beneath him. He wants to cry, the pain makes him miserable and the feather light touch of fingertips across his shirt collar are invasive at best. It takes him a minute to realize that Poe is undressing him; noticing only when the pilot tugs at the hem of his shirt and manages to somehow pull it free of his dead weight.

He is thankful for the cool air that dances across his back once he is out of his shirt, sighs gently and relaxes against the sheets before he remembers. Remembers what he looks like now, the scars and the metal all sewn together. Flesh warring with itself on how to heal around the intrusion that is keeping it alive. It’s ugly and awkward and he notices how Poe stares. Finn feels his breath catch again and his heart races. The electricity doesn’t come back but he is cold and numb and afraid now. He hasn’t let Poe see the implant, has refused to show it to anyone who didn’t help to put it there in the first place. Even the admiral hasn’t gotten a good look at his back since his time in the medical ward. 

Now though, it is exposed for gawking, and he feels his cheeks burn in embarrassment. Finn holds his breath, readying himself for the inevitable ridicule and disgust he knows he’ll hear in Poe’s voice. Even someone as open and kind hearted as him must think Finn a freak to be pieced back together like this. It’s not natural, not normal, but entirely him and Finn hates it.

There's a gentle pressure at the nape of his neck that makes him jolt, his pulse rocketing and head craning to glance at Poe. The man crawls into the bed with him, hovering over him with his face nestled against Finn’s shoulder and neck. The bed dips with the added weight and he tries to move with it but finds himself pinned carefully in place. The fighter pilot’s limbs bracketing him where he lays as his lips press once more against the nape of his neck, he feels the touch ghost over flesh and metal at once, and doesn’t know what to do, what to say. By the time he finally finds his voice, Poe’s lips have traveled half the length of his implant, the metal where they had been warm and buzzing pleasantly in his back. 

“Wh, what are you doing?” He doesn’t get an immediate response, feels the man’s hands pressing gently into the flesh of his waist as if looking for an anchor. “Poe?” The kisses continue without a word of explanation until he reaches the base of his spine, where the implant disappears under his flesh to tie into the rest of his body.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Finn,” he whispers, sending warm puffs of air skittering across the flesh of his lower back. It’s sudden, unprovoked, and Finn sucks in a quick breath of air. Unsure, he twists again, fighting down the urge to wince at the pain still lingering in his limbs, and tries to look at Poe.

The pilot is hovering over him still, eyes warm pools of adoration, admiration even, and the sincerity of his gaze nearly knocks all the breath Finn had been holding right out of him. He doesn’t know what to say and feels his heart pound so hard it nearly jumps into his throat.

“You’ve been hiding from everybody recently.” Poe says, voice low and smooth as he slides his hands up either side of Finn’s body, fingers a gentle pressure against warm flesh that draw goosebumps to the surface. “Is this why?” He snakes a hand around to the trooper’s back again, tracing the exposed metal implant as best he can now that Finn has managed to flip himself over. 

“I,” Finn stutters, face heating and mind going blank for a moment as he relished in the feel of Poe’s hands on him, gentle and curious. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” He turns his head to the side, eyes straining in an effort to refocus on something that isn’t his friend’s face mere inches away from his own. “The implant, I mean.” He shifts awkwardly, limbs feeling static for another brief, near unbearable moment, before he regains any real mobility in them. 

Immediately, he raises a hand to Poe’s chest, to push him off and try to sit up. Poe catches his wrist, though, pulls his hand toward his face and begins a new flurry of kisses that span from the tips of Finn’s fingers down to his wrist. “It’s you, Finn. You aren’t any different than before.” Poe hums softly against the heel of his hand and closes his eyes.

And Finn feels his chest ache, though it’s not a result of his physical therapy this time. His heart throbs and he feels his eyes burn with the sting of unshed tears again. Poe is so nice, so good to him. Too good, he thinks, for any of this to be real or true and, _oh_. 

The pilot’s lips are on him again, but this time they tempt him to join in and he whines, desperate and broken, pressing into the kiss without thinking. It feels good not to think for once. To have only the movement of their mouths to focus on, the delightful floaty feeling in all of his body as Poe’s tongue slips into his mouth and he’s pressed harder into the mattress beneath them. 

He feels the tears fall despite all his will to hold them back and he’s not sure if the hitch in his breath is from the release of pent up stress or the way Poe holds him like he is the world to him. Like he might break or melt away if he loosens his hold even a little. 

“Poe...” Finn manages only the man’s name, forgetting speech altogether in an effort to refocus. The thrum of electricity returns, sparking across his tongue and lips like a warning and he blinks away the last of the his tears. “Is this.. Alright?”

There’s a lopsided grin on Poe’s face, something akin to amusement in the laughter that erupts from him at the hesitant words. As if he thought such a question was ridiculous, out of place, unthinkable even. “Of course it is, Finn.” He assures him, hands drifting up to cup Finn's face, thumbs brushing away the trail of tears that linger on his cheeks. “You shouldn’t be so determined to find the negative in yourself. But I'll always be here for you, if you're struggling.”

Finn wants to cry again, though the stress has melted away and he’s certain all it could be is his nerves exploding like fireworks under his skin. Everywhere that Poe touches feels like a burst of electricity dulled to something warm and inviting and he can’t help but run his tongue over his lips, enjoying the way it seems to distract Poe for just a moment. “Alright.. I,” He tries to swallow down the joy in his tone but fails to hide his blossoming smile, “I’ll try.”

“Good.” Poe’s voice is distant, like his thoughts are elsewhere, and Finn tilts his head slightly. Before he can question the man, though, their lips collide a second time and he loses whatever words were on his tongue to the gentle lull he feels when Poe slots their bodies together and drags a blanket over them. This is better, he thinks, than sulking gloomily about the what-if’s of his life’s purpose. 

He deserves this; his thoughts can wait.


End file.
